My Own Beat

Normally I am not the kind of person who walks around saying: "Hey, Blueberry! Go fuck yourself!" But lately, that's just how I feel.

I'm really irritated that a successful recovery from surgery means that I can't work out temporarily. That, coupled with the fact that I recently quit smoking, means I might actually gain a few pounds over the next couple months and will subsequently take me further from my physical ideal, which is a cross between a coke-addled supermodel and AIDS chic.

Honestly, I look sort of like a Muppet, Grover I think. All skinny with a swollen belly... Sexy I ain't, right now. But, that aside, my fur is coming in nicely. And, FYI, Vicodin does nothing for emotional pain whatsoever, nada! So abandon any ideas you might have about us running away together and spooning, because there aren't enough monkeys in the zoo to make me wanna spend another smidge of energy thinking about what the possible ramifications of the impact of.... Where is that prescription bottle?

*~*
I just want a time machine, you know? Take me back to the 14th of February, 1979, Cologne, Germany... I will sit, all of eight, quiet and attentive. I will make resolutions and ration my reserves. I hang on your every word. Fall into your backlight. I am uncool and God only knows what Valentinus did in the first place.

I feel empty
I feel dark
I remark
I am mesmerized
By my own beat
Like a heartbeat
~WIRE

If You Cut Me...

I have been recovering from surgery, so please forgive me if I am brief.

The operation took place on Wednesday afternoon, or evening, I should say, as it was almost dark as we left the surgical center. Never have surgery in the afternoon. Always opt for an early morning slot, as your surgeon will be fresh and it will be easier to fast in your sleep. I couldn't eat a thing all day and I was nervous and since I quit smoking, that's what I do when I'm nervous. Anyway, the operation went smoothly and I wasn't in any real pain until the next day.

After several days of recuperating and lots of educational television, I feel a little better. My sister has been a great help, as she is a nurse and has had a cesarean section herself. I'm not saying that the procedures are comparable, just similar. I feel more like a deleted scene from an ALIEN movie, where the monster is successfully removed from the abdomen before it hatches. I will have a scar shaped like a smile, just under my navel. Sexy, huh?

Wait til you see the pictures...
Anyway, I'm alive.
SO

Do I Not Bleed?

As I mentioned before, I have a hole that needs fixing. Not a temporary filling, but a permanent closure that will prevent that which is within me from coming out. I have elected to have surgery, right away. Tomorrow, in fact, tomorrow afternoon.

I suppose it would behoove me to stop being so elusive and just come out with it. There is, unfortunately, nothing very poetic about a hernia. In fact, this hernia is a result of residual trauma from a previous hernia surgery I had nine years ago. See, they punched a hole through my abdominal wall with a camera and then forgot to close up that hole when they were done. Over the years, as I gained and lost many pounds, the hole started to stretch larger until little bits of my guts could ooze out. I would just push them back in and go about my business, but since I recently started strength training at the gym, the problem has gotten worse...

I decided that I needed to have this done right away, because, truthfully, is there ever really a convenient time to have surgery? Besides, I like the symbolism of it. All the energy that has escaped through the hole in my navel will be reclaimed. I will be born anew and emerge even stronger... Like the Six-Million Dollar Man or the Bionic Woman or Madonna. It will be great.

I will keep you posted on my progress.
Be with me,
SO

The Glitter Fades

Personally, I can't wait until this whole Mercury Retrograde thing is over. Breakdowns in communications and emotional outbursts are so passe. I feel like if we are ever going to truly control our lives, that we have to get a better grip on the solar system and astrologically stop shit from going bad.

I'm kidding, of course. But that doesn't change the fact that am in the middle of a sacrificial rite of passage, letting go of the old in order to embrace the new. Madness occasionally rears its ugly head, but who am I to judge? I have an appointment tomorrow with a man who says he can fix the hole. It's all just bittersweet symphonics, but it feels like something more permanent. All that never remains...

I Know It's Over

So, yeah... I'm deconstructing within the structure again. This time with blockquotes, so you'll get nice and confused. I had to take down the last entry, because it was a stupid fucking holiday reference and an excuse to post a photo of me in front of a flag. Fuck that! I hate holidays.... I hate independence and I hate this, too. In it's unholiness:

Attraction is a strange and mysterious force. Regrettably, we don't have the canine luxury of blatent ass-sniffing in order to screen our company. Instead, human interaction is less obvious but serves the same purpose when getting to know someone. Often times, relationships develop through repeated exposure as is the case with office romance. The various parties are able to sniff each other out and then decide if they want to go there or not.

Luckily, I have no such problems. If I find someone I work with attractive, I do my best to ignore them and under no circumstance do any sniffing at all. Not that my industry is exactly teeming with types I might be attracted to... In my office, no one wants to Dunder my Mifflin and that's okay with me. I'm not closeted at work and there are many people that will happily discuss how disgusting Paris Hilton is or what's really wrong with Britney or any number of somewhat "gay" subjects. I just don't put out that vibe at work. I am a professional and I have a serious Defamer addiction to maintain.

I make excuses, obviously. I am working overtime in order to use the phrase "Dunder my Mifflin", which I don't even get. Does anyone watch television anymore? Does anyone have a job? Where is everybody going? Where's everybody....... *At this point, the Diva hits the floor and you know what that means. No, I'm not seeing more than two psychotherapists. Yes, I decided that I must have an elective surgery, right away. No, I'm not lying, exaggerating or otherwise fucking with you. Yes, you, the only one left. We'll just sit here crying together, hoping that the embassy sends an ambulance before we've expired. Maybe in time, we all just rot. In the meantime, I have to get on daddy's good side.

"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight ?
I know ...
'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."
The Smiths

Firmness and Comfort

I love to sleep and I absolutely hate not being able to do it.

Strange thoughts invade my mind on a nightly basis. In fact, my insomnia had gotten so bad, I felt like Paula Abdul. Needless to say, this is a most disturbing feeling and the realization of such prompted me to seek help.

So, after consulting several therapists, psychics, and dealers of dreams, I am sleeping again. With the aid of a little script I got from my doctor. Not the euphoric stuff I was hoping for, but it seems to do the trick. I was very hesitant to take prescription sleeping aids, because I don't necessarily trust myself to resist having a Neely O'Hara moment."I want a doll! I want a doll!" But so far, they are doing the trick.

My most potent memory regarding this particular subject is one of Madonna. There is a moment in "Truth or Dare" when she groggily rubs her eyes and says: "My sleeping pill hasn't worn off yet, so if I start acting like Joey Heatherton- You'll know why..." I always wondered what exactly she meant by that. After bouncing around in my mind for, oh, fifteen years or so... I finally stumbled upon THIS and suddenly it all made sense.

The perfect combination, you'll love it!

Maybe This Time

I feel like the weekend needs a anthem:



I was upset to learn that the creature I had come to know as the neighborhood cat, a creature whom I would find in my apartment occasionally, something that I went out of my way to pet and be kind to, a creature I believed was the neighbor's cat... was actually a skunk. A wild, probably rabid, fucking skunk. I find that incredibly sad and confusing. I miss that creature.

The future looks bright, though not so much that I need shades or anything. I just have the sugary aftertaste of optimism on my tongue. Did you happen to catch my other Fosse moment? Yes, it's a weird world that's wild on top. But I like it.

I'm processing a lot of emotions right now. The man in the moon smiled at me tonight and that makes it so much easier to let things die. No expectations, no disappointments, right?

Tonight you all look good to me.
SO

Idiot Heart

At a recent social gathering, I was introduced to several new people. The introduction went something like this: "He is incredibly talented. A genius writer..." Now, with an opening like that, you might think that I was the belle of the ball. But time and again, I was politely greeted with a so, you're a writer... followed by their eyes leaving me to gaze upon the muscle-bound, blond, blue-eyed creature to my left. "And what do YOU do?" They would ask him. His reply? "I work out."

Well, I work out too. Just not enough, I suppose. But the greater dilemma here is that I live in a town where being a cultural, literate, intellectual type is a handicap. Is no one interested in thinking? I guess not. Not here at least... If you do not live in Los Angeles, count your blessings. I may be a genius here, but it does me little good. Even when I find someone I think might be interesting enough to pursue, they usually disappoint in fairly predictable ways. That is entirely my own fault for having what I have come to understand is my Idiot Heart.

I used to spend a lot of time thinking about how stupid and ugly I must be, that no one wants to be with me. Now I know that the opposite is true. I just give men far too much breadth. Must I be pickier with such limited choices? Alas, the answer is yes. I must embrace my inner-diva and force them to grovel for my affections. I invoke the Queen of the Nile, Cleopatra, and mantra the command: On your knees! On your knees! On your knees! And while you're down there....

Hell hath no fury, it's true, but I am tired of scorn. Even my imaginary friends have lovers these days.

Mitch just returned from Europe, where he partied with Nacho Vidal and some Parisian whores. The night they were arrested for throwing a statue from their balcony at Le Claridge Champs-Elysées, Mitch met Anton. Could anything be more romantic than meeting a future lover in a French prison? Anton had been picked up for petty thievery and apparently stole Mitchell's heart as well. They spent the money I had loaned Mitch, on wine and cigarettes, before finally stowing away on a Japanese whaling ship headed towards Long Beach. I went right down to pick them up and have been regaled with crazy stories ever since. I promise that I will do my best to share the least perverted of them with you, though that might be difficult. You know how Paris gets in the summertime....

Forgive that you might forget.
Amen.

Still Waters

"If only you were more shallow..."

Yes, that would seem to solve all the worlds problems, wouldn't it? But, alas, it will never be. I am deep, bitch!

You can quote me on that....
SO

Rebirth

Having celebrated yet another milestone upon the road of life, and astonished at the tenacity my existence tends to show, I have resolutions to declare.

Therefore upon this day, I resolve to become iconoclastic in every aspect of my life. Will it matter if my coital activities match my decor? I think not. I've never been drawn to the "easy-to-assemble" lifestyle, opting inside for sculpture and color. I requite no one and need nothing.

Fairly, I go into the future with a skeptical heart. I plan to open it again, I do. When you offer love and it is refused, what is one to do? Box it up and bury it in the ground? Or dust yourself off and continue to dance to the beat of your own drum? I pound the pavement. I pound the flesh. I pretend to care and lift my dress.

Action taken becomes the accusation: Drama Queen... Yes, the list is very long now. Maintenance is always an issue once you've removed the hateful tissue. Cut and Paste. Growth and Denial. It's all very boring, I know. But it's all I have these days. My dreams were always too vague. The spells I cast don't always serve me. Reality is a bitter friend.

Don't get me wrong... I'm feeling stronger than before and I know that from these ashes, I will rise. I always do. Months from now, you won't recognize me and that's a good thing. I am born again. I am alive. Let's get it on...